


A New Era

by RolloDex



Category: Warframe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2020-09-29 11:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RolloDex/pseuds/RolloDex
Summary: The system is not what it was when the Tenno left it. The Grineer and Corpus have divided the planets amongst themselves, always seeking to expand their reach, while the Infestation skulks at the edges of civilization, kept at bay for now. The Tenno do what they can to maintain that fragile balance while protecting what scraps of humanity remain. However, greater threats lurk in the dark, and when these shadows of the Orokin rear their ugly heads, it falls to the Tenno to beat them back. Tags are likely to change down the line.





	1. Chapter 1

**Ok so, I'm just gonna start this off by saying that no, the summary isn't referring to the Sentients. It was poor word choice on my part, but I'm hoping it'll make sense down the line. That aside, this was started after I realized that Stormfront is the start of what is basically the second story to this universe and that it lacked basically all the foundations that I needed to tell the story I wanted to. As mentioned there, this has some _serious_ headcanons in it, so if you're not a huge fan of those, this might not be the story for you. However, should this catch your interest, there's a lot more to come, and though it might be slow, rest assured, it _will_ come. I've spent a lot of time fleshing out the universe and planning out the story, so I'm really confident on how to move forward. This has been a long time coming and I'm eager to share with you all. I hope you enjoy**.

* * *

Azalea let out a heavy sigh as she leaned back in her somatic link, now rendered useless after her experience with the Grineer Queens had reminded her of her void abilities and left her able to link with her frame without its assistance. Still, it was just about the only place on the ship built with human comfort in mind, and as such, she found herself resting her head against the soft material that covered the inside of the seat.

She frowned. There had been little time between her emancipation from the Orokin Moon and her trials with the Queens, and she hadn’t had time to outfit her orbiter with more appropriate furnishings for her occupancy. She supposed she’d have to scrounge around for more appropriate furniture when she had the change, sitting in the same spot for hours at a time got old real fast. Perhaps another visit to Cetus was in order. She was sure that Gara wouldn’t mind, it was the closest thing they had to a home, after all.

Or at least as much of a home as a Warframe and Operator could have. Azalea wasn’t sure if Gara really remembered much of her life before Azalea had bonded with her. She had heard the legends of Cetus describing how a warrior of glass was the town’s defender and that a climactic battle had shattered her, but whether or not her Gara and the one of legend were the same frame was a train of thought better left unexplored. Regardless of whether or not she remembered anything, she hadn’t ever brought it up, and Azalea thought it best to leave it at that.

Azalea stood up, pressing her hands to the small of her back and leaning backward, grunting as a chorus of cracks answered her reluctant stretching. She rolled her shoulders as she headed for the door of the back room, heading to the left as she exited. The door to her personal quarters hissed open as she approached, and she felt herself relax as the soothing sound of bubbling water flowed out to meet her. A small garden, complete with a small fountain was flourishing on the counter directly across from the door, an addition that Azalea much preferred to the pre-made vignettes that were advertised on her market console. Easier on the pocketbook too.

Gara stood like a statue in the alcove between the two windows of the horseshoe-shaped aquarium, her form motionless as Azalea entered, but loosening and animating as Azalea approached.

“Is something wrong, Operator? We’re already through for the day, are we not?” The voice of Azalea’s frame echoed in her head, a melodic, regal voice that Azalea secretly envied. It didn’t matter that she was the only one who could hear it, it still sent shivers down her spine every time she heard it.

“Done with missions, yes,” Azalea replied, crossing to the garden and dipping a finger in the small pool as she eyed the space. She wouldn’t be able to fit much in the cramped space, but at the very least she could cram a bed, a dresser, a table, and a chair if she maneuvered them properly, assuming those were still things that were made. All she needed, really. “I’m getting rather sick of my somatic link being the only place I can relax comfortably, though. I need some more padding in this place now that I’m up and about.

Azalea heard a chuckle as Gara stepped out of the alcove and moved to stand beside and a little behind her. “Shall I assume that we’re now on a mission of our own, then? A mission to acquire these amenities?”

“Something like that,” Azalea responded, drawing back and flicking the water off her fingertip. “I figure we’d head to Cetus first, they seem like they’d have things far more comfortable than Fortuna’s racks.” She shuddered at the thought. “Kit up, I’m going to go tell Xyrea where we’re headed.”

She moved back towards the door, Gara behind her, and turned towards the upper part of the ship. Gara headed towards the arsenal, the twin panels splitting apart as she stepped into the circle and began to call up her weapons. Azalea entered the cockpit of her orbiter, kneeling on the small platform in the center and tapping the small screen in front of her. This simultaneously called up a hologram of the entire system and alerted her ship’s Cephalon that there were places to be.

“Heading back out so soon, Operator?” In the periphery of the hologram, a small visualization of Xyrea appeared, flickering in time with her words. “You haven’t slept yet dearest, you shouldn’t go straining yourself.”

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Azalea called up the slowly spinning sphere that represented Earth, searching for the small mote of light that indicated Cetus. “There shouldn’t be any combat or anything strenuous like that, we’re headed out to see if we can’t find some furniture for my personal quarters. That should help me get a better nights sleep, don’t you think?”

The deep maroon of Xyrea’s projection flushed a light pink, evidently pleased. “You’re making the space your own, dear, how lovely. I was starting to worry about you, all cooped up in that miserably stuffy chair of yours. Hardly a place to be sleeping, you’re starting to get bags under your eyes. Shall I set course for Cetus, then?”

“That would be great, Xyrea, thank you.” Azalea had found the mote and tapped it while her Cephalon had been talking, and at her confirmation, she felt the deck plates begin to thrum as the engines kicked in. She stood up and turned, intending to head back down and check on how Gara was doing, but Xyrea caught her before she could exit the cockpit.

“Oh, Operator? You have a message in your inbox, I believe it’s from that Teshin character.” She made no attempt to hide the contempt in her voice. She partly blamed Teshin for the temporary lapse in Azalea’s void abilities, and even with her doting personality, her programming had forced her to abandon Azalea on the high mountain pass. Azalea suspected that Xyrea hadn’t quite forgiven herself for the incident, despite the many times that Azalea had assured her that it hadn’t been her fault.

“Oh? That’s odd, we just parted ways, and I don’t have any intention of stepping foot in that infernal Conclave if I can help it.” Azalea turned towards her Codex console, tapping through a few screens to get to her inbox. Sure enough, a message from Teshin awaited her, and she opened it with a raised eyebrow.

_Tenno,_

_You have shown beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are capable of great things. You broke the Queen’s hold upon you, and though my voice guided you through those trials, it was not I who saw them through. You carry yourself with a wisdom beyond your years, never leaning too far to either side. We could use a Tenno like you to pave the way forward, through the uncertain times ahead._

_If this piques your interest, know that you will likely be required to eschew your typical Tenno duties in service to the greater good. Contact with your Lotus will be minimized, and no longer shall you be bogged down by the petty hurts of the Origin System. Your calling will be of a higher one, though it is no more or less important than the roles your fellow Tenno fill._

_You shall be given power, should you earn it, but with that power will come responsibility. A responsibility to your fellow Tenno, to those you protect, and even to those you fight. There may come a time when the entirety of the Origin System looks to you, and you must be able to withstand their gaze and unflinching, look back._

_Should you wish to shoulder this burden, return to where your journey began. For all our sakes, I hope you consider it._

_-Teshin Dax_

Azalea finished the message, mulling it over in her mind as she closed the console. That… was not what she had been expecting. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, though, Teshin was proving to be chock-full of surprises, but this one had still managed to catch her somewhat off-guard.

It was true that she had killed the Elder Queen, after breaking her mental hold upon her. Teshin had offered, and while she had briefly considered either letting him do it or simply letting the Elder Worm squirm away, she had had little doubt in her course of action. No, she would do it. To let others finish her battles for her was not her way, and so she had gathered her newly-rediscovered power in her hand and sent it coursing straight through the Worm’s rotten heart.

Xyrea’s voice broke her out of her musings. “Shall I erase this message, Operator dear? Teshin can be such a bad influence, you know? Sending you off on silly adventures to serve some ‘higher power.’ Sounds like a bunch of old Orokin phooey to me.”

Despite herself, Azalea found herself smiling at the old Cephalon’s concerned nattering. “No no, keep it around, at least for now. Teshin might sound like an old fool, but he’s proven himself a cunning warrior with a good deal of sage advice. But I’ll deal with his riddles later. I want to get a good night’s sleep before considering anything of this magnitude.”

“Very well, as you wish,” there was a note of resigned acceptance in Xyrea’s voice. “It’s going to be a little while before we get to Cetus, dear. You should have time to go check up on Gara before you need to head down to your link.”

“Thanks. Let me know if anything comes up.” With that, Azalea turned and headed back down the ramp, lost in thought. She’d never really thought of her deeds as anything other than that which was expected of her as a Tenno, but clearly, she had been mistaken. She supposed she had been rather busy since the Lotus had first called to her, but she generally worked alone, and as a result, didn’t have a frame of reference for how much other Tenno really did. Lotus had told her that they were the final line between the tattered remnants of humanity and the horrors of the hostile system, and Azalea had taken that to heart. Any time she had caught wind of a particularly nasty individual, she had been the first to respond. She’d had assistance for a few of the missions, but for the most part, she’d handled them alone. There was typically only one such entity per planet, and once they were removed, the threat to the fragile balance of the system subsided.

It had been when she’d gotten to Uranus that everything started to snowball. First she’d run across the remains of the Sentient Hunhow—who just so happened to be the Lotus’s father, go figure—while attempting to sabotage Tyl Regor’s efforts to create a better Grineer, then had come her reality-shaking experience with Stalker on Lua, and most recently, she had received a painful reminder of her past through the Grineer Queens.

Needless to say, it had been a very busy few months.

And at her side through all of it had been Gara. With the memories of her powers had come memories of her past, and so she now knew that Gara wasn’t her first Warframe. She had lost her somehow, during the Old War, but the memories of the times before were patchy. Given what she had discovered of her rather unpleasant past from the Queen, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go digging deep enough to find out more. Besides, that was another time, another era, and such thoughts didn’t bear suffering when she had a vastly different life, vastly different duties to a system she had barely recognized when she had first woken in Gara.

As Azalea made her way down the ramp, she caught sight of her partner magnetizing the last of her chosen weapons to her back. Azalea cast a practiced eye over the chosen equipment. Even though she didn’t foresee any reason to use them, it never hurt to be prepared. A Rubico, Pyrana, and a Zaw that Gara almost never put away, a long staff with a sharply curved blade atop it, its three points gleaming wickedly.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I might have the suspicion that you expect trouble.” Gara’s gently teasing voice came to her. “Are we going to have to hunt a bed down, or perhaps defend some chairs against a platoon of Grineer?”

“Very funny, Gara,” Azalea retorted. “You know as well as I do that it never hurts to be prepared. ‘Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it’ comes to mind.”

“Of course, Operator. I do seem to recall a certain incident when you decided that fishing would be a great way to wind down, and then we ended up battling Grineer more than actually fishing.”

Azalea shuddered at the thought. It had seemed like every few seconds a new squad of clueless Lancers had charged them, convinced that they would be the ones to finally kill the Tenno that dared to try relaxing on the Plains.

“Something like that. Plus, I suppose we might need to head out and gather supplies to barter; many of those vendors aren’t particularly interested in credits.”

“Pragmatic as always, Operator.” Gara had finished checking the weapon locks, and now approached Azalea, one strong hang gently grasping her chin and tilting her face to allow Gara a better view of it. “I must say, you’re looking rather haggard, I think this idea of furnishings is a good one.”

Azalea rolled her eyes, prying her chin from Gara’s grip. “Xyrea just informed me of that, thank you. At this rate, I’m going to be stopped by every vendor in Cetus because they see me as an easy mark.”

“They wouldn’t be wrong, would they? Especially if their wares were of the kind you seek. If it’s easier, you could simply stay here, and I could pick up your purchases for you.”

Shaking her head, Azalea sighed as she and Gara headed back down towards the room that housed her somatic link. “No, I don’t want to risk getting something that ends up being too small or uncomfortable. Besides, you know as well as I do that the Cetus vendors have never let a Warframe’s poker face fool them, they always know what’s going on behind the mask. It’s rather unsettling sometimes.”

Gara hummed an absent understanding as Azalea stretched again before settling back against the headrest of her link. Azalea closed her eyes as the shell closed, and when she opened them against, she was looking at the outside of the link from Gara’s perspective.

Transference was always an interesting experience. Sharing space in another’s head, where thoughts, feelings, and emotions from each melded together was an experience that defied words. The best way Azalea could describe it was that there were sections that were clearly her, and some that were clearly Gara. However, the great majority of their thoughts occupied spaces where the borders of the individual blurred and they were no longer separate. Once again, Azalea thanked her lucky stars that she and her frame got on so well. It could get very uncomfortable very quickly if the mind she was mingling with was anything other than welcoming. She felt a wash of amusement from Gara’s end as this train of thought bridged the gap and made itself known in the communal space they shared.

She wasn’t going to be in that space for long, but it was a necessary step when her landing craft didn’t have the frailties of the human form in mind. She couldn’t magnetize herself to the holdfasts, nor could she drop twenty feet without risking serious injury. Once on the ground, she would be able to step out through Gara’s body, and then the shopping spree could begin.

She snorted at herself as the Orbiter approached Earth, the landing craft detaching shortly afterward and heading towards Cetus. She was not the kind of person to ever find enjoyment in shopping, like some Tenno she knew of. She shuddered. To think that people _did_ find enjoyment in the act was beyond her, but she supposed that someone had to keep the vendors in business.

Gara lept down from the landing craft with easy grace, landing without any visible strain—as if she’d just stepped down a flight of stairs rather than dropping several stories. Once her feet were firmly planted, Azalea wasted no time in standing up…

…And through Gara’s body, stepping through the solid mass like it wasn’t there. She shivered, still not entirely used to the feeling, before inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of the sea. There really was no substitute for fresh air. The Orbiter, while far from stuffy, had a certain metallic tang that the air scrubbers could never seem to quite eradicate.

Feeling somewhat invigorated, Azalea bounced on the balls of her feet a few times, stretching muscles that didn’t see much use. She then strode towards the town, feeling Gara close behind, steeling herself for the press of Cetus’s market streets.

She had been half-joking when she had said that the Cetus merchants would see her as an easy target. She was sure if she had been anyone else she would have been swamped with** “**deals just for you, Tenno” and “rare products the likes of which you won’t see anywhere else in the system.” However, she and Gara had been part of the town for long enough that the Ostrons viewed her as one of their own, and as such most didn’t stoop to the level of trying to dupe her. Even so, she had to politely decline several offerings of exclusives or discounted prices. She stopped near the center of town, where the merchant who had sold furniture in the past had hawked his wares only to find an empty stall. Nakak regarding her inquisitively, her Trinity mask firmly in place, as usual.

“Good to see you again, surah! It’s been too long! You seem lost, though. Are you looking for someone, or maybe looking for something?” Azalea could just see the girl’s piercing green eyes through the slits in her mask, eerily perceptive for one so young. “You’re moving like someone who knows they want answers, but isn’t sure where to find them.”

Azalea offered an embarrassed smile to the girl. “Yeah, something like that.” She recalled Teshin’s message and added under her breath, “More than you could ever know.” Speaking again to Nakak, she asked, “What happened to Tarak? I find myself in need of his wares.” She smiled ruefully, rubbing her back for emphasis. “My body’s informing me that I need a proper sleeping arrangement. I do hope he’s in good health, though.”

Though she couldn’t see it, she could hear the smile in Nakak’s words. “Ah, surah, Tarak is in good health and in greater spirits. After forming a deal with the Solaran called ‘The Business” to acquire the shed fur of the many animals he cares for, he found his beds and cushions softer than ever and in ever greater demand. Tarak’s business is booming, though when making a deal with the Business, I suppose one shouldn’t be too surprised, eh? You can find his new shop near the Great Gate. He’s a busy man nowadays, but I’m sure he will have time for you.

“Thanks for the help, Nakak. It’s good to see you too.”

“For you, surah, anything. It’s the least I can do to repay all that you do for us. Sho-lah!” Nakak bowed deeply and stepped aside, letting Azalea and Gara past.

Azalea sighed as she leaned back, watching the sun set over the ocean. She and Gara sat on the small tower that rose out of the middle of the town, looking out over the awnings covering the market square. She and Gara had spent the better part of the afternoon perusing the wares offered by Tarak, who had been ecstatic to see her once again and had been delighted to offer her his best. In the end, she had found everything she had been looking for, and she had spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out how to get it all up into her Orbiter. Eventually, Gara had gotten fed up and decided it would be simplest for her to carry the objects straight to the ship with the Archwing, once Xyrea had brought the ship down from orbit.

With the furniture safely onboard, Azalea had decided to spend some time relaxing in town. It had been quite some time since she had given herself the chance to wind down, so she relished the opportunity. She hadn’t visited the town for a few months, so she spent time catching up with the townspeople, who were delighted to sit her down and talk with her at length. Azalea and Gara hadn’t really ever been outworlders to them, even though they were definitely Tenno.

The Lotus had woken them in a small cave out on the edge of the Plains just before a platoon of Grineer had breached the cavern, which had lain sealed for years. They had just managed to fend off the Tusk troopers with Gara’s glass, but not before they had damaged Gara’s comm relay. With communication with the Lotus cut off, a hasty evacuation of the cave was deemed in order. They had spent the next few days wandering the Plains, dodging Grineer and scavenging what they could. Eventually, the graceful shape of the Unum and its tall shield pylons came into view, and perhaps sensing civilization, they had headed towards them. The shields had warped around them, allowing them access, and they had steadily made their way towards the shape of the Unum on the horizon. However, at this point, encounters with the Grineer were all too unavoidable, and even with the protective measures of Gara’s glass and the makeshift machete they had bashed together, the seemingly overwhelming onslaught of Grineer had taken its toll.

They were fleeing from another squad when they had first caught sight of the Great Gates, and even after a Tusk Ballista’s shot had lodged itself in Gara’s leg, making walking difficult, they had pressed on. They had made it to the door without much more trouble, and to their surprise, it had opened as they drew closer. They had given the Ostrons quite a shock when Gara had staggered out of the tunnel, though they had quickly overcome their shock at seeing the guardian of legend upon seeing their condition. Luckily, the miners of Cetus had had plenty of materials stockpiled and Gara’s body had been quickly patched. However, they didn’t have the means to repair Gara’s comms, so their disconnection from the Lotus had persisted.

They had stayed in the town for some time, and though the Ostrons were initially cautious of the newcomers, they had quickly overgrown that trepidation as Azalea and Gara, still one and the same at the time, had begun to run regular sorties against the Tusk Grineer. They had sabotaged countless attempts to breach the town’s defenses, assassinated dozens of high ranking commanders, and made off with their supplies left and right. Cetus grew safer in their presence, and they had been happy to do it.

However, that all ended when the first offworlders appeared and Azalea had discovered that she wasn’t the only Tenno out there. At the time, her memories of the past had still been repressed and the realization had rocked her world. With the sudden influx of other Tenno, she hadn’t felt as obligated to provide protection to the Ostrons as she once had, so it hadn’t taken her long to secure a ride on one of her fellow Tenno’s orbiters and head out into the stars.

She’d only visited the town a few times since then, and each time had been fleeting. She hadn’t had the time to sit down and catch up as she had today, and she had realized how much missed the place.

She lifted the small gourd of Chimurr that Tarak had given her to her mouth, savoring the rich flavor as it played across her tongue, and closed her eyes as the last rays of sunlight slipped over the horizon. She supposed she’d need to leave soon, and for once, she was looking forward to getting back to the ship and giving her new bed a try. She’d tackle Teshin’s message tomorrow, she wasn’t in the mood for riddles at the moment. She spared it a bit of thought as she climbed to her feet, intent on finding Gara, whom she had left with Hok.

_“Return to where your journey began.”_

Great, very helpful. Perhaps he meant the cave where she and Gara had first woken, there might be some insight there. She supposed she didn’t have much better to go off at the moment. As she wandered towards the ramp leading to the town proper, she contemplated why nothing could ever have an easy answer. There always had to be some sort of puzzle to solve or mystery to unwind first…

“Ah, there you are, Surah!”

Nakak’s voice shook her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see the girl hurrying towards her, Gara at her side.

“Ah, hello Nakak. I’m sorry I can’t stick around and chat, I was just leaving. Got something to figure out tomorrow, and I won’t be doing any sort of figuring if I’m tired.”

Nakak caught hold of her arm as Azalea tried to maneuver around the girl. “About that. I don’t think you’re going to have to be doing much ‘figuring’ tomorrow, surah. I’d think that instead, you’ll be off on another adventure.”

Azalea stopped and looked down at Nakak, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What makes you think that?”

Nakak released her arm and beckoned her to follow. Azalea rolled her eyes good-naturedly and followed, she could bear to humor the girl for the time being. “I was asked to ‘lead you to the next stage of your journey.’ Not my words, I assure you!”

“Riiiiiight,” Azalea responded, her skepticism increasing with every step. “Anything else you were told to tell me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Azalea could just hear the smugness in Nakak’s voice as she answered, “I was told to tell you that it wasn’t the cave. You didn’t start there. You truly started _here_.”

Azalea had to fight to keep her jaw from scraping the floor as Nakak skipped away, humming innocently. She had to shake off her shock and jog to catch up as Nakak disappeared around a large rock, heading up a path that Azalea hadn’t noticed before. “Hold on, _who_ said that? Nakak!”

She caught up to the girl as she stopped in front of an ornate door with a waist-high carved stone next to it. Nakak turned to her and bowed again. “Here is where I leave you, Surah. Simply press your hand to that stone and the door will open for you.”

“Wait just a second here,” Azalea complained, “Who’s behind that door? Who told you about my message?”

The corners of Nakak’s eyes wrinkled as she smiled. “Someone you have heard of before. Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense soon.” She began to head back down the path, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to come visit again sometime!”

Azalea sighed. She clearly wasn’t getting any answers out of the girl, so she turned and eyed the door. She cast a glance behind her to ensure that Gara was there, then pressed her hand to the carved stone Nakak had indicated. Immediately, the doors whooshed open, and Azalea stepped forward, into the small cave beyond and into the unknown.

It would come to her later that it was at that fateful moment she had accepted Teshin’s proposition.


	2. Chapter 2

**Screw writing Onkko, the cryptic Quill bastard. Trying to write him in a way that sounded like Onkko and yet also got the point I was trying to make across was absolutely infuriating, but I hope I managed decently in the end. Hocus pocus timey wimey whippety whine, or something. I'm actually really proud of the emotions I managed to put in this chapter, so lemme know what you think. Plz. I love feedback, it _sustains_ me. _Plz gib._**

* * *

Azalea took in the small cave as she entered, casting an appraising glance around the area. Large sentient bones lined the walls, seeming to provide support for the ceiling, and lanterns hung from some of them, creating a dim half-light around the edges of the room. Hanging from the ceiling in the rear of the room, another lantern, this one larger, casting a bright pool of light in which several tables stood. Various objects of foreign design rested on the tables, and Azalea eyed them with interest as she ventured further into the room.

A man with a large circular hat stood behind the center table, leaning against the rear wall as if asleep, but as Azalea approached he pushed himself off the wall and raised his face, which was conveniently obscured by a large, flat mask. Not knowing what else to do, she stepped into the light cast by the lamp and addressed the man.

“Uh, hey? I was told to meet you in order to ‘start on the next stage of my journey’, as it was said. Might I ask who you are and what you meant by that?”

The man cocked his head as if regarding her, remaining silent for a moment longer before speaking in a heavily accented voice. “Indeed, your journey started here not long ago, and through the great ebb and flow of time, you’ve made your way back. Cetus was, is, and forever shall be your home, should you wish it to be. A home to depart from, but also one to return to. No matter the path your journey takes, Cetus and the Unum will be a part of it, though in what manner is up to you. In this future, I simply act as a guide to your true destination, and offer you implements to aid you along the way.”

Azalea’s eyebrows steadily rose as the man continued to talk, her skepticism apparent on her face. More riddles. Great. She rubbed her temples, closing her eyes briefly before opening them and asking, “Alright, I’m going to pretend most of that made sense and skip forward to the other part of my question. Who are you?”

If the man was perturbed by her brashness, he didn’t show it. Quite on the contrary, he actually chuckled lowly at her words, shifting his weight. “Ah yes, I do apologize. The best futures demand that you ask such a question again, as to be certain of its impact. Our fates have been intertwined for an age, and such tangles do not come undone easily. Though you don’t know me, you’ve known _of_ me for a great deal of time.” As he talked, Azalea found her ire rising, and she opened her mouth, intending to snap at the man to hurry him along. She was too tired to deal with such riddles. Perhaps sensing her impatience, the man hurried along. “I am known as Quill Onkko.” He then added under his breath, as if to himself, “Two times, but not three. Three only once.”

Azalea shut her mouth, opened it again, then closed it once more, her mind a whirl of thoughts. _Onkko._ That name carried with it a weight that Azalea could feel pressing down on her, and she wasn’t sure how to react. The original husband of Saya was supposed to be dead. Or at least, that’s what most of Cetus believed; Saya herself had always believed that her husband was still alive and out there somewhere. All the same, Azalea and Gara had helped her find closure after unlocking the coffer than Onkko had left behind. Saya had initially been convinced that Gara knew where Onkko was—she had been the subject of his studious focus—and it had taken some intense cajoling to convince her that that wasn’t the case; Azalea had been just as convinced as the rest of Cetus that Onkko was well and truly gone.

And yet, here he was, very much not dead. Azalea wasn’t quite sure how to process that information. If that was the case, if Onkko had been here all this time, that meant he had willingly left his wife, willingly put her through years of pain.

“Why?” she managed at last, unsure how else to say it.

Onkko’s head dipped, his facemask disappearing behind his hat. “Ah, yes. An unavoidable question. It was not something that Onkko, that I, did lightly. It’s still a choice that is put to the test every day. But in the end, it was the only choice that could be made. The only future that I could live with was the one in which I left, and in the end, Saya will be happier than she would have ever been in a future with Onkko, with me in it, and most end too poorly to even discuss.”

Azalea muddled through Onkko’s stammered speech as best she could, and when he was done, she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Aiyah. I assume this ‘knowing the future’ stuff has something to do with the Unum, then? A price for omnipotence?”

Onkko nodded, then straightened. “Nevertheless, to focus on what has been and what can be is the surest way to lose sight of the present. Let us return to why _you _are here. You have seen the system in all its beautiful, terrible glory; you have seen the corruption that rotted the Golden Lords from within; and now, it’s time for you to compose your own symphony, free from the influence of the one you call Lotus and the demons of your past.” Onkko reached under the table as he spoke, setting a small stone coffer on the table between them, pushing it towards her with an inclination of his head. “Within, you shall find the first two instruments of this orchestra. Take them, and create a melody that will ring through the cosmos.”

Azalea picked up the box, pressing the button inlaid in the center. The box split open, revealing a strange contraption laying inside. It looked almost sentient in design, with curling designs and a pair of bent rods folded underneath a bracer. Eying it curiously, Azalea picked it up and slid her hand through the bracer, feeling a thrum of energy as it seated itself comfortably around her arm. She flicked her wrist backwards, and the rods flipped upwards, resting just in front of her hand. As it locked into place, that rush of energy intensified briefly, then rushed down her arm to focus at a point in her palm, where she usually channeled her void beam. Furrowing her brows, she looked back to Onkko, a question in her eyes.

“That is designed to focus and amplify your void-given abilities into something with more purpose. You will find it useful in the coming weeks, but all this really is is a tuning fork, an implement to help you find your pitch. Along your path, you will find tools more suited to your unique style, and your melody will only benefit from this.”

Azalea nodded, then flicked her wrist again, cause the apparatus to retreat back underneath her arm, then turned her attention to what it had been resting on. A simple tablet of the Unum ivory, carved with the Ostron symbol for “visit”. Azalea blinked in surprise, glancing at Onkko, who remained impassive, and then back to the tablet. If this meant what she thought it did…

“Is this… Are we… What should we…” Azalea’s words failed her, unsure as she was how to take this latest development.

Onkko didn’t respond, but Azalea felt the tablet being plucked from her hands.

“It means, dear Operator, that my old friend wishes to see us.” Gara flipped the tablet over as she placed a reassuring hand on Azalea’s shoulder. “As soon as possible. She also sends her apologies for keeping you from your well-deserved rest.”

Azalea groaned, rubbing her temples once again. “No rest for the wicked, it would seem.”

“No indeed, Tenno,” Onkko replied, laughter in his voice. “Our interaction has concluded. The Unum shall guide you now, and unlike with many Tenno, that is meant that quite literally. We look to your future with much anticipation.”

Azalea nodded, turning and striding out of the cave with Gara close behind her. As the door slid shut behind her, she transferred back into Gara mid-stride and headed for the landing zone.

There wasn’t much time for Azalea to reflect on the day’s events during the short hop from Cetus to the small antechamber that opened near the peak of the Unum’s tower, which was probably for the best. Azalea was somewhat used to being caught up in a whirlwind of events, and she had learned that stopping to consider such events often let a series of decidedly unpleasant memories resurface. While the amnesia that came with cryosleep still shrouded much of her past and offered her some degree of peace, she was finding that her time with the Elder Queen in her head had been the start of a gradual lifting of that veil, and not everything she remembered was pleasant. There were some bits of her past that held a certain degree of intrigue for her, but she also bore the sneaking suspicion that the term “ignorance is bliss” held a great deal of relevance in this scenario.

She shook herself out of her musings as Gara touched down upon the polished ivory floor, stepping through her frame and out into the spacious room. As she emerged, she felt a subtle thrum of power, lending the air a certain charged feel. Looking around, Azalea spotted a single ornate door leading out of the room, and catching Gara’s eye, motioned towards it.

“Shall we?”

“Indeed we shall. Best not to keep her waiting.”

As they approached the door, Azalea’s thoughts again began to wander, this time towards Gara’s words back in Onkko’s cavern. ‘My old friend,’ she had said. That carried with it an implication that Azalea wasn’t sure she wanted to broach with her partner.

Luckily, she didn’t have to.

“Your thoughts are particularly chaotic this evening, Operator.” Gara’s smooth voice reverberated through her head as they passed through the door and into an ornate passageway. “Surely after all this time together, you’d feel more comfortable speaking your mind to me.”

Azalea sighed, a short, heavy exhalation of breath. “I don’t know, Gara. We’ve never really talked at length about our pasts, and when that past comes calling, I find out it’s far more unsettling than I could have ever imagined. I’ve heard the Ostron stories about you, but I was never sure if you and the Gara of the legends were the same. I guess I expected that if you were, you’d tell me when the time was right.”

Gara chuckled softly, placing a reassuring hand on Azalea’s shoulder. “You must understand that my memories of the time before are even fuzzier than yours, and sometimes I have to question whether they’re actually my memories at all. My recollections are mixed with yours and… others… and the further back I go, the less certain I am that I actually experienced what I remember. I didn’t tell you, dear Operator, because I wasn’t sure of it myself. It wasn’t until Onkko spoke that the fog lifted, if only for a moment, and I remembered my time with her… and my previous operator.

_Previous operator. _Azalea felt a chill run down her spine at those words. If her thoughts had been chaotic before, they were in full anarchy by now. Her head spun with questions and possibilities as a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. A previous operator meant that someone else had shared that intimate connection with Gara, the melding of body and of soul. Did she live up to the example set by that operator? Or was she just a shadow of their memory? A mockery? She and Gara had been together since their awakening and hadn’t really ever had much to say in the matter of their bond. If she could, would Gara have chosen to remain unbonded? Would she have chosen another? Was her previous operator still alive somewhere? Would Gara want to break their connection to return to them? Was that even possible?

Gara’s grip on her shoulder tightened, and she stopped walking for a moment, forcing Azalea to do the same. Gara spun her around to face her as she knelt, leaving her helmet at Azalea’s eye-level, placing her other hand on Azalea’s shoulder.

“Azalea. Although we aren’t sharing the same mind right now, that doesn’t mean I can’t hear your thoughts, especially when they’re as loud as they are now. I want you to remember this. _You_ are my operator now. Nothing can change that, not even my past. You’re forgetting _our_ past, and everything we’ve accomplished together, everything we’ve done for one another. I respect you as a Tenno, as an operator, as a companion.” As she spoke, Gara folded Azalea into her arms, squeezing her tightly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better friend to share this journey with.”

Azalea stiffened as Gara wrapped her arms around her, at first unsure how to respond. After a moment though, her mind eased and she relaxed, returning the hug. “Thank you,” she murmured quietly, closing her eyes for a moment and simply enjoying the feeling.

They stayed like that for a long moment, before Azalea squirmed slightly. “As nice as this is, I do believe someone is waiting on us.”

Gara laughed lightly and released her, returning to her feet. “I’m sure she won’t mind if we’re a little late.”

Azalea smiled, but before she could respond, the background hum of energy that had been pressing in on her senses since they had entered the tower intensified to an aura of power that Azalea could all but touch, making her stagger backwards slightly. Gara put a steadying hand on her back as Azalea blinked sudden tears out of her eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden change in the room.

As her head cleared, a voice rang out, seeming to resonate from both the walls of the passage and within Azalea’s mind; a clear, sonorous voice that made the hair on the back of Azalea’s neck stand up. “I certainly don’t mind, don’t you worry, especially when the delay is based upon such wonderful grounds. I had hoped that you two would pause to reaffirm your bond, but such hope is often misguided. You, however, have rarely disappointed.”

Azalea’s face reddened as she realized that their moment together hadn’t been quite as private as she had thought. “You… saw all that?”

The voice—Azalea assume it was the voice of the Unum—let out an amused laugh, saying, “This very tower is my body, Azalea. Of course I saw it, but you shouldn’t let that bother you. Some, like the Grineer, view emotions as artifacts of weakness. They have many misguided notions, but few as foolish as this.”

As she spoke, Azalea and Gara passed through a final door and into a large atrium. Gilded pillars rose to a ceiling far above, while a large Ayatan statue dominated the center of the room, whirling in its everlasting dance. Underneath the statue, a small fountain burbled, though its contents weren’t water. Red fluid cascaded over smooth stones, and beside the fountain, a simple bench rested.

“Sit,” came the Unum’s voice again, “We have much to discuss. Or perhaps we don’t, both are possibilities.”

Azalea let out a groan as she seated herself on the bench, Gara beside her. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but this constant barrage of ‘This might happen, or it might not, or the complete opposite could happen’ is really starting to get old.”

The Unum chuckled. “I’m sure it does, living in the present can be so limiting sometimes.” Before Azalea could speak and fire back an indignant retort, she continued, “I mean no offense, child. I know what is to come, yes, but such sight is limited at the best of times. There is rarely one path forward, and even when there is, such moments are usually easy to know, even for those without an intimate connection with the ebb and flow of the universe.”

Azalea raised an eyebrow. “Ooookay, well, given that I’m not on a first-name basis with the universe, do you mind if we return to the plane I live on for just a second?” She caught herself. Probably best not to get snarky with one of the most powerful entities in the system. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day.”

“Worry not child, I know you didn’t mean any insult. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.” At this, Azalea snorted and rolled her eyes, and the Unum laughed again. “A silly question, I know. Fear not, all will become clear with time, and while I’m sure that is exactly what you didn’t wish to hear, it is the only answer I can give.”

“However, I can offer you the chance to discover such answers yourself. How you go about uncovering such knowledge will alter their outcomes, some in a good way and some bad. Consider carefully your choices, as often you won’t have the luxury of time to make your decisions. It’s best to take advantage of time when you have it.”

Azalea nodded, the fountain next to her catching her eye. She dipped a finger into the liquid, considering the droplets clinging to it as she drew it back. They sparkled like miniature garnets, and the Unum spoke, noticing her attention. “My Temple Kuva. It is how I communicate with my followers, how I was able to find the Sentient all those years ago. Just as with the Sentient, it can heal you, should you choose. Your body isn’t in need of repair however, your mind, your memories are. Remember, knowing the past will often let you guess the future, and so should you desire, this can lead you to the answers you seek. Just remember that you might not like what you find.”

“I see,” Azalea said, shaking her hand to rid it of the droplets. “And what’re the other options?”

“There is only one, and it resides, hidden, on the edge of the system. I will warn you, should you decide to take that path, the journey to answers is going to be far longer than if you were to simply heal your mind. However, you may find the answers far more satisfying in the end. It is your choice to make, however; I shall not interfere.”

Azalea didn’t speak for a time, instead electing to cup her hands and scooping up some of the Kuva, letting the ruby liquid dribble through her fingers and back into the basin. Just a taste and she’d regain all her lost memories, regain her past. She could remember the events before the collapse, remember what part she played in the overthrow of the Golden Lords. She could remember her childhood and her time on the Zarimon. She could remember her _parents_. That thought alone nearly made her plunge her hands into the Kuva and drink as deeply as she dared, but something Onkko had said made her pause.

_It’s time for you to compose your own symphony, free from the influence of the one you call Lotus and the demons of your past._

The more she thought about it, the more she questioned whether or not she wanted to remember. There would always be that part of her that wished to know, but there was that sneaking suspicion that she mind not be ready to handle whatever the Kuva would show her.

_Free of the demons of your past._

She had demons in her past, the Elder Queen had shown her that much, but what other horrors lurked beyond the veil of her mind? Facing her past, even while guided by the Queen had nearly broken her; did she dare to rip down the curtain, or would she be better off inching it back one bit at a time?

She considered her options a while longer, but in the end, there was only one decision she could make. She let the remaining Kuva slip from her fingers, and with it, the promise of her past unveiled. “I thank you for the opportunity, but I must decline. I’ll discover my past as it becomes open to me, not by having someone else reveal it to me. I do have one request though, should you be willing.”

The Unum was quiet for a moment, then spoke in a thoughtful tone. “Unexpected, but not unwelcome. What is your request?”

Azalea turned to Gara. “I would ask that should she wish to, that you let Gara consume some of your Kuva.”

The Unum kept her voice even, controlled, betraying no emotion. “Why?”

Azalea sighed heavily. “She might be my frame, my partner now, but that wasn’t always the case. I would ask that she be allowed to remember her previous operator, her first partner. Her _friend_. I don’t want Gara’s memory of such an important person to fade.”

The Unum’s voice softened a measure. “She was my friend too. I wouldn’t have let her memory die. Very well, should Gara desire to remember, she is free to partake in my Kuva.”

Azalea kept her eyes on Gara, fretting on her lip nervously. The regal was standing stock still, her mind as closed to Azalea as she had ever felt it. Azalea rose and approached her, concern on her face. “Gara?”

“Thank you, Operator.” Gara’s voice was quiet, so quiet that even though she heard the words in her head, she had trouble hearing them over the buzz of her own thoughts. As if coming out of a trace, the frame moved slowly, once more enveloping Azalea in her arms. “Thank you so much.”

Azalea returned the hug without hesitation this time, squeezing tightly even if she wasn’t sure if Gara was capable of feeling the pressure. “You’re welcome,” she whispered back, feeling the barrier between the two of them drop, and Gara’s gratitude flooded her.

The Unum remained silent as Gara approached the fountain, and after a moment of hesitation, laid her hand against the bottom of the shallow basin. For a moment, nothing happened, and Azalea felt Gara’s sadness and disappointment, and then their link flared indescribably bright.

Azalea gasped and staggered as Gara stiffened, synth-muscles tensing. Azalea blinked tears away and leaned on one of the pillars, watching Gara and doing her best not to pass out from the information overload she was receiving from her frame.

She noticed the change almost immediately, though that wasn’t really surprising given how bright it was. A ring of sparking energy was racing up her arm, and when it reached her shoulder, it split, a new ring running down her torso, opposite arm, and up her neck. It seemed to be burning away an outer layer, leaving a gleaming new skin in its wake, all clean lines and elegant curves. The energy completely altered her helmet, widening it and replacing its three glass horns with graceful points and circles, completely altering her silhouette.

Once the energy had completed its circuit of Gara’s body, her body relaxed, and their connection dimmed, returning to the quiet background that Azalea was accustomed to, though something was… different about it. Gara sagged backwards, and Azalea rushed to support her, but she caught herself before she could fall, raising a placating hand as she rested the other on the rim of the basin. She took a few moments to speak, and when she did, Azalea started in surprise. Her voice sounded richer, smoother, and the touch of her mind felt fuller, more powerful, though it still retained the familiar touch of Azalea’s partner. Her change had clearly gone beyond simply altering her appearance.

“Riva.”

Azalea’s eyes widened, and she started to ask, “Was that—”

“My first Operator. Her name was Riva. I… I can remember her face again… After all these years… I hadn’t thought it possible. I can’t thank you enough, Azalea.”

Azalea smiled; a genuine smile that tugged at the corners of her eyes. “I’m glad it worked, Gara. How are you feeling?”

Gara inspected her hand, flexing the fingers a few times before straightening and rolling her neck and shoulders. “Better than I have in centuries, a statement I can now make with confidence. I feel… whole once again.”

The Unum finally spoke up, happiness tinging her words. “A fully healed body and soul tends to do that to a person. Even I couldn’t fully repair all the damage to your body when you and Riva sacrificed yourselves to save me. Only another Tenno possessed that kind of power, and only a Tenno with whom you shared a true bond with, beyond anything a somatic link could provide. Behold: Gara Prime, as she appeared to Riva, and now to you, Azalea.”

Azalea couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of awe as she looked upon Gara now. Prime. An original Orokin Warframe, and _she_ had been the key to her restoration. Another smile spread slowly across her features, and this time, it carried with it a certain sense of pride.

A compartment slid open in one of the nearby pillars. Azalea crossed to inspect it, and found an ornate weapon rack holding even more beautiful weapons upon it. A gilded sniper rifle, longer than she was tall; a slug shotgun trimmed in gold, barrel yawning ominously; a set of glass throwing knives, the intricacy of their handles rivaled only by the sharpness of their blades; a pair of elegant automatic pistols, their magazines curving forward much like Gara’s new helmet; and finally, above it all, a magnificent hammer, head studded with sharp shards of glass.

“My…_our_ old weapons…” Gara murmured, running a hand along familiar curves and handles polished with time. Hefting the hammer, she sent it whirling with a familiar flick of her wrist, the glass whistling with a melodic danger, before seating it on her back with a practiced motion. “The only thing missing is our Zaw, which Hok forged as a gift, and that was lost the day…” She paused, and Azalea felt sadness rising up in her partner. Resting a hand on Gara’s arm, she spoke softly.

“That’s why you were so insistent about that Zaw we forged. You didn’t know it at the time, but that was your closest connection to Riva.”

Wry amusement flickered. “Indeed it was. And you seemed hell-bent on listening to Hok’s ‘suggestion’ that we use a shorter handle. I thought I’d never be able to convince you otherwise. Hok knows many things, but he could never hold a candle to Riva’s affinity for creating weapons.”

Azalea smiled wanly. “And apparently neither can I. I’ll have to listen to you more going forward.”

If Gara had been capable of drawing in a shaky breath, she would have, straightening and inspecting the other weapons. “Thank you again, Operator. The ones we have lost shall always weigh heavily on our minds, but by honoring their legacy together, we can lighten that load.” She lifted the sniper as if it weighed nothing, sighting down the barrel, before latching it to her back like the hammer. “My old Rubico. We used this to hunt kuakas for dinner sometimes, and if the hunting was good we could sometimes feed the entirety of Cetus.” Next, the knives. “Riva forged these from my own glass. I’m still not quite sure how she managed it, but the edges are as sharp as they were when they were created.” The pistols. “Akstilettos. For when we thought we’d need a little extra kick for a mission.” Spinning the with a practiced hand, she holstered them at the small of her back. Finally, she picked up the shotgun, breaking it open and inspecting the magazine, before flipping it shut and spinning it as it closed. “The Astilla. As far as I know, it was the only one created during the Age of the Orokin. Modern versions have since resurfaced, but none of them could match what Riva created. She used more of my glass to create slugs that shattered on impact. I’ll never forget the day she asked me to give her some glass to melt down and turn into bullets.” Her voice thickened momentarily. “Thanks to you, Azalea, I won’t forget her ever again.”

Azalea patted her arm comfortingly before turning back to the Ayatan statue, unsure of where else to look. “Thank you, Madame, for your gifts. We shall treasure them, always.”

The Unum laughed lightly, delight still apparent in her voice. “You have nothing to thank me for, child. You are the one who should be receiving thanks, for you have reunited me with a friend, and a friend with her memories. Remember, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and no matter how great you as an individual might become, that truth never changes. Take comfort in each other, and you shall draw great power from that bond as well.”

Her tone became more serious. “Now, I offered you a choice, and you elected to take the longer of two paths. You will find your next crossroads in an Orokin vault that has lain undisturbed for centuries. I shall provide your Cephalon with the coordinates.”

Azalea nodded. “I shall seek out this vault. Although you protested against it, I still feel like I owe you thanks of some sort, Madame. At least take that.”

Laughing once again, the Unum opened the door to the chamber where their ship was docked. “If you insist, child. Do not despair if the path forward isn’t always clear; in the end, there’s only one true path for you, and you can walk it without fear of the multitude of futures set out before you. I wish you well on your journey, and please, do stop by for a visit sometime.”

“Goodbye, my old friend,” Gara called as she followed Azalea out, “It’s been wonderful to see you again.”

The Unum’s reply was muffled somewhat, as if she was focusing on speaking directly with Gara. “Likewise, my dear. Take good care of Azalea, won’t you? She’s a good one, you know.” Then, muffled further, almost indecipherable, Azalea could just make out a few final words. “She’s got a long road ahead of her, and one way or another, she’s more important to the fate of this system than she’ll ever know.”

* * *

**Just in case you couldn't figure it out, the unnamed weapons are the Volnus hammer and the Fusilai throwing knives, two of Gara's signature weapons, with the Astilla naturally being the third. Yes, I'm aware that Gara doesn't actually have a prime. I used the Zamariu TennoGen skin to give her a prime look, so if you're interested in what she'd look like, look at that and imagine it in white, gold, grey, and black. And buy the skin, it's incredible. The weapons are also all primed, which of course isn't actually in the game, but hey, we're not playing the game right now. So heckoff and let me have my fun >:I**


	3. Chapter 3

**Not _quite_ a year between updates, but we were getting close. Such is life, I suppose.**

* * *

Azalea stared out the forward viewport of her Orbiter as they approached the coordinates the Unum had provided. Surprisingly, they had directed them to a spot in normal space, deep within the Oort Cloud, instead of within the Void like the other Orokin towers Azalea had come across in her travels. Xyrea had commented on this when the two of them returned to the ship, after fussing over them like she always did. She complimented Gara on her new look, and after a moment of silence during which Azalea imagined she had been inspecting her, she spoke in a gentle voice that a mother might use when praising a reluctant child. “Your stance had changed, my dear. Like you’re more comfortable in your own skin.”

Azalea supposed that was true, but more importantly, she was more comfortable in Gara’s skin. No longer did she feel like an interloper in a stranger’s house. Now it was _her_ house.

She wasn’t sure when she first noticed it, but as time went on, she began to notice stars winking out, blocked by a large, dark shape. As it came into view, Azalea wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was clearly of Orokin design, but keeping in theme with the excursion, it wasn’t like any she’d seen before. Azalea had trouble calling it a “tower,” as while there could be an argument made for the graceful structures found in the void, this was a departure from the norm. One might even be able to call it ugly, especially when comparing it to its comrades. While it still possessed the elegant, sweeping curves and gold highlights typical of Orokin constructions, its walls were largely a dark, dull grey instead of the usual pearly white, and its shape resembled a squashed gourd; squat and compact, Azalea had a hard time believing that the Golden Lords had actually built it. They typically exuded excess in all places, and this structure looked almost… _utilitarian_, a word that the Orokin treated with a palpable disgust.

“Any idea what that might be, Xyrea?” Azalea asked, her brow furrowed, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m afraid I’m just as stumped as you are,” her Cephalon responded, “I’m reading a remarkably powerful nullification field deep within, though. I’m not sure what for, and there’s something off with its signature, but do be careful. I wouldn’t want you to get caught in it, one of this magnitude would completely strip your abilities and quite possibly your link with Gara.” A pause as Xyrea scrolled through her sensor feeds. “In addition, it would appear the entire structure is swathed in a communication suppression field, also strangely powerful. I don’t think my comms will be capable of functioning once we dock. You’re still… sure you want to go in there?”

Azalea resisted rolling her eyes. No matter the mission, there was always some sort of warning, the metaphorical ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ Though there had been a few times, when they were preparing to field test some new weaponry, that Xyrea had cautioned them about that very thing.

“Yes, I’m sure.” This drew a resigned sigh from Xyrea. “We’ll be careful, don’t worry. I don’t know how long this will take, so don’t worry if you don’t hear from us for a while.” Truth be told she didn’t know anything about this place other than that fact that the Unum had directed her here, but she refrained from mentioning that to her motherly Cephalon. She’d probably bust a circuit.

Azalea exited the cockpit as they drew closer, Xyrea steering the ship towards one of the visible airlock clamps. They studded the midline of the structure, wrapping around the side until they disappeared from view. This had been a place of high traffic at one point, or at least had been designed to accommodate it, and this made it all the more suspicious that no modern record of it survived.

After docking, Azalea retired to her somatic link while Gara gathered her weapons, settling on her newly recovered Astilla, Fusilai, and Volnus. Azalea noted with some amusement that Gara had passed up the Rubico with the distinct idea that shooting a hole through the side of the station wasn’t in their best interest.

Their entrance was shockingly normal. No immediate blaring of alarms, no automated turrets trained on them, no self-destruct sequence. Though the structure was old, the interior was still lit with a series of bright lamps set into the ceilings and walls, casting cold light over was appeared to be a security checkpoint in front of them. A glance to either side would show that a corridor followed the outer wall of the outpost, the insides of the airlocks visible at regular intervals. More of the checkpoints, evenly spaced in front of the airlocks, would have allowed any newcomers to be stopped and inspected before being cleared for entrance. They moved past the long-abandoned guard post and deeper into the station, and soon it became clear what purpose it had served.

“This was a prison,” Azalea murmured as they looked around at the rows of cells bracketed by guard stations, wide hallways cutting arteries of travel through the blocks. A sinking feeling began to creep into the edges of her perception, but she pushed it aside for now. “They’d keep their maximum-security prisoners in the center. More guards between them and escape.”

Gara echoed affirmation, and they headed deeper, the bars getting thicker and the guardposts more fortified as they traveled further. An ancient Orokin prison. Azalea wondered what someone had to do to get put away here. This was no measly supermax on Lua, this was an orbiting base hidden from the rest of the system that looked almost as military as some of the Dax installations that Azalea had visited during the Old War. She idly wondered if any Tenno had been set as guards here.

She wasn’t kept wondering for long.

They found the first body at the foot of a long staircase that descended into the heart of the outpost, and unlike everything else they had found so far, it was from this era. The boxy helmet of a Corpus crewman stared blankly at the wall, head slumped lifelessly to his chest. Gara crouched next to the body as Azalea swept her eyes over it. This couldn’t have been more than a few days old, at most. That didn’t bode well. An unspoken agreement between them and Gara rose, quickening her pace towards the end of the corridor, where a door waited. It appeared to have been forced with some manner of breaching charge, with a large hole of twisted metal allowing access to the chamber beyond.

The center of the station was a single large octagonal room, all graceful curves in the typical Orokin style. The ceiling was roughly dome-shaped, with sturdy pillars placed halfway between the wall and the center of the room. Eight doors, one on each wall, led into the room, presumably opening onto hallways running to the edge of the outpost like the one they had come down. Only one other door, directly to their right, featured the same jagged hole that they had come through. More Corpus bodies littered the gilded floor, their blood spreading ugly stains across it, but Azalea’s eyes were elsewhere.

A shimmering golden field was projected between the pillars, and within its bounds was a single somatic link like the one Azalea had emerged from on Lua. Arrayed around the pod was a collection of Warframes, half a dozen or so, in the standard Tenno meditation pose, legs tucked under them and hands placed on their thighs. This must be the nullification field Xyrea had detected, and now Azalea could see why the signature had seemed strange.

On either side of the room, their hands raised above their heads, two Novas kneeled unmoving, energy sheeting from their palms and into the barrier between the pillars. One was clad in earthy tones, with highlights of leafy green and watery blues, while the other was sheathed in darker colors, the warm yellows of dawn and dusky purples of sunset twisting around each other on a backdrop of midnight blue. Rings depicting the five focus schools of the Tenno wheeled in perpetual motion behind their shoulders, movement mirrored by rotating sections of their arms. Weapons hung from their backs, and traces of blood still clung to their blades. It was plain to see that they were responsible for the slaughter of the Corpus.

Azalea stared for a moment, then steeling herself, stepped through Gara and into the room, her connection with the ship and Xyrea fading as soon as she did. As soon as her feet touched the ornate floor, one of the Novas—the brown one—shuddered to life, eyeless helmet turning to regard her, and Azalea fought the urge to flee. Nothing happened for a beat, and then Azalea raised her voice, unsure of what else to do.

“Greetings. I am Azalea, Tenno. I was sent here by the Unum in search of answers to my past.” Nothing particularly fancy, but the few hours of sleep the flight had afforded her didn’t put fancy very high on her priorities.

She felt a foreign consciousness—no, two—pressing gently but insistently against her psyche, and after a moment of resistance, she allowed them in. A voice, tinged with the high-class kind of accent Azalea had come to expect from Orokin-era minds, spoke clearly to her.

“Hail, Azalea. I am Sehri.”

“And I am Fahri,” came another voice, this one clearly younger, though still tinged with the same aristocratic class.

“We are known as the Wardens, and we guard this prison.” The first voice had returned. It seemed to be the earthen Nova, an assumption reinforced when she crossed to stand at attention in front of Azalea, hands now folded smartly behind her back. “Such is our duty set to us many centuries ago, so it is now. We have long wished for someone to lift our burden, however, as we watched the prison empty after the Golden Lords fell. This desire has only grown as the years stretched into decades and decades into centuries. Is that why you are here?”

Azalea didn’t respond for a moment, her mind whirling, not for the first time today. That clever old… She supposed she shouldn’t have expected anything less from one so wise and wily as the Unum. “I suppose I am. What do you need of me? And who are you guarding, if all other inmates have been taken away?”

A flash of apprehension and sadness from Sehri, before she responded. “Within the pod lies a Tenno. Within her grew a great hatred of the Orokin, like many of her peers. However, she couldn’t find it within her to bide her time, and none thought to include her in their schemes, so she created her own. During the waning years of the Old War, she attempted to join the Sentients, to assist them in their quest to overthrow the Golden Lords. She failed, caught by a team of fellow Tenno. With their own plan so close to fruition, they couldn’t afford a Sentient victory, nor could they afford the suspicion of their masters. So they brought her here, where she was meant to be kept until her judgement and likely execution. But, before that could come to pass, the war was won and the Orokin dethroned. The remnants of the Dax removed many of the prisoners, and those that remained either escaped on their own or starved. No one came for her, though. No one remembered her.”

A heavy sigh came from Fahri. “And so, we have remained here, forgotten by the rest of the system. Until today.”

Azalea looked, stricken, at the pod. “What will become of her now?” she asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be. Imprisoned for centuries, for a crime that her jailers had committed not long after she was caught? Why hadn’t they freed her after the Orokin fell?

“That,” replied Sehri as she knelt before Azalea, raising her hands with their palms up, “is entirely up to you. We were never paired with Operators, given our status, but if the Unum has sent you, you are meant to relieve our burden and free us from our shackles. To do this, you must decide what to do with our final prisoner so that we are Wardens no more. We will link with you, and once linked, you will be free to do what you will with her.”

“We shall link one at a time,” spoke Fahri. “One of us is always required to maintain the field. Whether you wish it to remain in place once we are finished is up to you, however.”

“I see,” Azalea murmured, looking again at the cryopod before turning her full attention back to Sehri. She hesitated for a moment, then tentatively placed her own hands into Sehri’s outstretched palms.

Pain flared behind her eyes as memories flooded into her, her muscles going tense as a mind that was distinctly not her own pressed against hers, the edges between them fuzzing before disappearing entirely.

She saw the moments when Sehri first gained consciousness, in the heart of an Orokin forge, saw the great foundry ships of the Orokin building this place, saw the prison teeming with guards and prisoners alike, saw ships coming and going, saw the enclosure in the center of the structure being built, saw Sehri and her sister in a lab somewhere, sharp tools and gleaming needles everywhere, and then she saw _her_. Saw her furious face as she was dragged in by a pair of Dax, a fury that morphed to fear at the sight of the enclosure and its fields, a fear that dissolved to abject terror as she was thrown through the barrier and into the pod.

Then everything went wrong.

Three doors across the room exploded off their hinges, and Corpus infantry poured into the room. Crewmen and MOAs alike, their feet pounding in a mechanized beat that shook the station’s bones. Without missing a beat, Gara rose and swung her Astilla off her back in a single fluid motion, taking aim and sending glass slugs into the nearest group of Corpus. They shattered on impact and the shards flew outwards, embedding themselves in whatever was unfortunate enough to be standing near the target. The platoon fell quickly, and Gara took the opportunity to summon a wall of molten glass around her operator and Sehri, a wall that quickly solidified to diamond-like hardness. She then paced forward, spinning a new magazine into place as she moved. Azalea was still rooted to the spot, unable to move anything save for her eyes, as she was overwhelmed by the convergence of minds. Fahri was similarly incapable of moving to assist, maintaining the barrier as she was.

The Corpus clearly hadn’t been expecting to find Gara there, leaving Azalea to conclude that a few of the crewmen whose comrades they had found strewn across the floor had escaped, informing the Corpus board of what they had found. She cursed mentally, then had to close her eyes as the thoughts triggered another flash of memory, this of the curses hurled against the impassive faceplates of the frames as they patrolled the halls they guarded.

Gara worked her way through another group of Corpus, and as the MOAs turned their turrets towards her, she lifted a hand before snapping it to her side, the glass hanging from her shattering and forming a cloud of razor-sharp fragments that orbited around her. The flat surfaces caught the beams fired at her, sending them ricocheting around the room as she holstered her shotgun and drew her knives. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she sent them whirling into the chests of three unfortunate crewmembers, who toppled like puppets with their strings cut.

As Gara cut through the Corpus, those guarding the central door parted to allow a strange machine to be pushed through the shattered remnants of the entrance. For all intents and purposes, it looked like the lovechild of a ballista and a railgun. The crewmember pushing it looked around in shock at the chaos enveloping the room, before hastening his pace, putting his head down as he rushed to plant the device in an open patch of floor. He flipped out a keypad, frantically typing in a series of codes and slamming his fist into a final green button.

The apparatus whirred to life, stabilizing outriggers flipping down and planting themselves as the main bulk of the machine raised itself up. The rails telescoped out as they rose, the arms flipping out as a line of energy connected a tram within the rails to the ends of the limbs. The tram drew itself back, the arms growing taught as they moved, and once it had reached the rear of the rails, two handles popped out, which the Crewman grabbed. He hesitated, then swiveled the barrel towards Gara as she bore down on him, hammer in hand. He pressed the trigger, and the rails began to glow brightly as electricity arced over them. A small projectile loaded itself into the tram, just before the arms snapped forward, flinging the car forward and through the crackling fields of electricity. As it left the barrel, the projectile opened, forming an arc just before it impacted Gara’s neck, snapping around it and collaring her.

As the cold metal closed around her neck, the collar flashed and Gara cried out in Azalea’s mind. Azalea yowled as she felt the pain through their link and Gara crashed to her knees, her hammer falling from her spasming fingers. Azalea doubled over, the pain clashing with the melding of her mind with Sehri’s. As her eyes drifted shut, the last thing she saw was the Crewman aiming the railgun towards Fahri, who was helpless to do anything but watch.

As darkness encroached on her vision, she felt a memory pressing against her psyche, this one more solid and structured than the rest, and through the pain of Gara’s collar, she allowed it into her mind. Her surroundings dimmed, the sounds fading and the sensations dulling, and she found herself standing in a small hallway. The walls, floor, and ceiling shimmering as they faded in and out of focus, bright spots tracing intricate labyrinths over them. Sehri stood rigidly in front of her, her attention laser-focused on the door before her. After a few moments, the door opened, and Fahri appeared, leaning heavily against the wall as she staggered out. Beyond her was a small room studded with medical equipment and robotic arms poised threateningly over a table, but the view was quickly cut off as the door closed. Azalea recognized the room from a previous memory, knew that Sehri had been inside it as well. Sehri rushed forward to support her sister, putting her arm over her shoulders and allowing her to rest her weight on her hip.

“How did it go?” Sehri asked as they moved down the corridor, towards what passed as their quarters. As frames, they didn’t require the same amenities that humans did, but having a place away from the bustle of the station allowed their minds to rest, something that was just as important for them as their more mortal counterparts.

Fahri took a moment to answer, and Sehri got the distinct feeling that she was focusing all her attention on placing one foot in front of the other. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. As far as the scientists are concerned, it was a success, though only at seventy percent efficacy when compared to you.”

The elder Nova squeezed her sister tightly. “I wasn’t asking about what the doctors thought, and you know it. How do _you _feel?”

“I’m not sure. I feel... different. I know that. I feel small and vulnerable, like my mind is open for everyone to see. To judge. But at the same time, I feel powerful. Energy flowing through me in a torrent. I don’t know if I can control it...” She shuddered and pressed closer to the elder Nova as they stopped before the door to their quarters, Sehri passing a hand over a hidden sensor. “Did you feel like that?”

Sehri helped her onto the bench that ran across one wall, before seating herself next to her. “A little. I’m sure it will pass soon enough and you’ll be feeling better than ever.” She tugged her sister to her side, resting a comforting hand on her back. “And I know you can control it; you’re stronger than you think you are.”

The memory shifted. Sehri was hurrying down the hallway, back towards the medical bay. Fahri was writhing on a gurney pushed by two scientists with faces so impassive and unreadable a Warframe might be driven to envy. Catching up with the leader of the procession, the lead scientist who was consulting a datapad, Sehri asked, “What’s wrong with her? Was it the procedure? Can I help somehow?” She made little effort to hide the desperation in her voice, knowing that the implant in the man’s temple would communicate her emotions just as well as her words.

“It would appear so. The void energy she’s been infused with isn’t agreeing with her, and she’s going into something like an allergic reaction. Fascinating. I didn’t know it was possible for Warframes to—” he was cut off as Sehri grabbed his coat front with one powerful hand, putting her face close to his.

“You won’t perform any experiments or tests until you _fix her_.” Her voice was a low, dangerous growl, and the man had to suppress a gulp. “If she doesn’t make it through whatever you’ve been doing in there, you’ll be answering to _me_.”

The man nodded frantically, and she released him. He straightened his coat, before nodding at his colleges and hurrying off down the hall. Sehri was left there, strange emotions running through her and mixing in a chaotic swirl that made it difficult to think straight.

How could she have let this happen? Maybe if she had allowed them to perform more extensive tests on her, they wouldn’t have felt it necessary to include her sister. She hadn’t reacted poorly to the void energy infusion—on the contrary, it made her feel like the entire universe was at her fingertips—and perhaps she could have gone through it again; satisfied the curiosity that drove the scientists to enlist her sister as the next subject. Maybe if she had been more firm, refused to allow her sister into that room. Maybe if she had been there with her. Maybe if...

And then Azalea understood.

Understood what drove Sehri. Understood that although she hadn’t been born in the typical sense, instead having been created, she still placed a great deal in the importance of family. Believed in the bonds between family even more passionately because of the circumstances of her birth, because in the end, it was all she really had. The scientists viewed her as a means to knowledge, the Orokin as a means to power, and the prisoners viewed her as an obstacle to their freedom. Only her sister saw her as another person. Another being with thoughts, emotions, needs, desires, and wishes.

_Not anymore_, thought Azalea. She could remember her time on the Zarimon, of the long fearful days spent aboard the ship after the void storm hit. Her parents had vanished one day and she had never seen them again. Her only family at the time was another child who had found her curled up in a corner of her quarters, tears streaming down her face. He became her brother, her only comfort during that dark time. She knew how it felt to possess one true friend in the world and the terror that came with the thought of losing them. She reached out with her mind and wrapped Sehri in the knowledge of that understanding.

And then it was over. Azalea’s eyes flew open and Sehri sagged for a moment before catching herself. The pain lessened, only the shock from her link with Gara now present. Only a few seconds had passed, and Azalea watched as the collar hit Fahri’s neck, the younger Nova stiffening as electricity coursed through her, then slumping much as Gara had.

Azalea felt white-hot anger flowing through her, and though she wasn’t sure if it was hers or Sehri’s, she didn’t care. She got to her feet and stepped forward, through the glass wall as the amp Onkko had given her snapped forward, and she sent a bolt of void energy through the machine and into the heart of the crewman at the controls. The device sputtered and smoked before shuddering, and after a moment, it exploded. She felt Sehri at her back and heard the distinct sound of a blade singing from its scabbard. The assembled Corpus took a step back as they moved forwards, once again unsure of how to continue, and Azalea tensed, ready to spring into action.

Before she could, however, the nullification field flickered and died, and as Azalea stared in horror, the cryopod within hissed open. Nothing happened for a moment, and then a figure lept from the cryogenic gasses, landing in a crouch on the floor.

She was dressed in the skintight suit that most Tenno wore while within the somatic link, This, however, had a large orange stripe emblazoned from her left shoulder to her right hip, marking her as a fugitive. The hood fell loose around her shoulders, and a mane of auburn hair cascaded over it. She was fair-skinned and fine-boned, her features possessing an exotic, almost feline beauty, but she didn’t look delicate. She looked dangerous, and when she opened vivid green eyes, Azalea saw the furious fire within.

The lull only lasted for a moment, and then the air was filled with energy bolts as the MOAs opened fire, both at Azalea and the new figure. Azalea felt Sehri grab her and cover her body with her own, the lasers pinging off her shields. The other Tenno flipped backwards, avoiding the first volley, before raising a hand and pointing a pair of fingers at them, sending a blinding void beam into the group of assembled proxies. Void light raced over them, frying electronics and popping optics, but the onslaught didn’t stop. The remaining MOAs pressed forwards, screening the crewmen behind them as they rushed forwards, dragging Fahri’s immobilized body onto a hovering stretcher.

With their prize secured, the crewmen opened fire as well, and the girl was forced to take cover behind her pod. She gathered more energy in her hands, lobbing it over the pod where it exploded like grenades, scattering the Corpus forces wherever it hit. And still they came. Reinforcements must have been summoned from whatever ships the Corpus had, as more and more crewmen and proxies flowed in through the doors. Azalea began to fire void beams of her own at the squads closest, though they had nowhere near the power of the girl’s void attacks, even with her amp.

Through the chaos, Azalea saw the Corpus beginning to surround the girl as the last of crewmen guarding the stretcher holding Fahri disappeared through the door. A bolt caught the girl on the arm and seared a nasty line through her suit as they closed in. She appeared to be trying to hide from them, curling herself up with her arms around her chest and her knees drawn to her chin. But then, her hair began to float, and Azalea felt the charge in the air, a flood building up against a dam; vast and untamed.

And then the dam broke.

The girl snapped her arms outward and a wave of power swept out from her, knocking Azalea and Sehri backwards, the blast seeming to knock Sehri out. Azalea cracked her head against the wall and felt the breath rush from her, but it was a kind fate compared to the Corpus. Those closest to the pod simply disintegrated, their bodies crumbling to dust in a single moment. Those lucky enough to survive—though Azalea wasn’t sure she’d call them lucky—clutched at their heads, and when one of them tore his helmet off, she saw blood leaking from his closed eyes and ears, his face screwed up in pain. The remaining MOAs sparked and popped before keeling over, roughly half of them exploding as they hit the ground.

The girl straightened slowly as crewmen and MOAs dropped to the floor around her. The remaining Corpus beat a hasty retreat, and soon they were alone. Azalea sat up with a slight groan, noting that the pain from Gara’s collar was no longer there. The void wave must have shorted it out. Azalea called out to her partner, and saw her slowly getting to her knees from where the wave had thrown her. Gara sent a weak signal indicating that she was shaken but alright, and Azalea breathed a sigh of relief.

That relief quickly turned to trepidation as the girl focused on her, unblinking eyes intense. Neither of them moved for a moment, and then a small, impish smile spread across the other Tenno’s face.

“So, someone finally stumbled across my prison. It has been... _so_ long.” Her voice, while playful, had a serene musical note to it, a lilting melody that cascaded over Azalea’s ears in relaxing waves. Or at least, it would have been relaxing if not for the threatening aura that seemed to surround her. These two contrasting emotions combined in the unsettling sensation that the simple act of speaking to her was like listening to a lullaby from which she would never wake. “Might I know the name of the one who freed me?”

Azalea found that her tongue felt heavy and awkward in comparison to the beautiful voice she was listening to, but she forced herself to respond anyway. “I’m Azalea,” she replied, “And so I’ve heard. The system certainly isn’t how you left it.” She had hoped she’d have some time to consider how to tackle the situation, but that obviously wasn’t an option anymore and she’d have to think on her toes. “What’s your name?”

That smile widened, and Azalea expected it to be a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was mistaken. Her eyes glittered with suppressed mirth, but there was something _off_ about it. Azalea got the distinct feeling that she was being toyed with as the girl strode towards her, her pace fluid and unhurried. Azalea stole a glance at Gara and Sehri, but neither appeared awake enough to provide much help.

“My name? And here I thought I was public enemy number one, for both my fellow Tenno and our illustrious Golden Lords.” She reached Azalea and crouched next to her, still smiling that disconcerting smile, though a touch of malice had crept into it. “You weren’t lying when you said things had changed, it would seem.”

She placed a hand on Azalea’s shoulder, her fingers charged with suppressed energy, before leaning forward and murmuring in her ear. Her voice was a low purr that sent tingles down Azalea’s spine. “My name is Phyrix.”

Azalea shuddered in spite of herself and glanced at Sehri again. A mistake. Phyrix followed her gaze and the smile vanished, replaced by hard anger. When she spoke again, the playful tone had left her voice, replaced by steel. “Ah yes, one of my jailers. I’m sure she told you all about how I betrayed the Golden Lords, betrayed the Tenno, how I had schemed and plotted to overthrow their empire. How close I came to realizing my goals, before those I thought were my allies captured me and left me at the mercy of _them? _Tell me, have the Orokin sent another pet to finally finish what they started?” Her eyes burned with fury, and her voice rose as she spoke, anger bubbling just below the surface.

Oh boy. Azalea’s mind raced. Phyrix was still resentful of her imprisonment, not that Azalea could blame her. “It wasn’t like that,” she protested, and while Phyrix raised a skeptical eyebrow, she didn’t interrupt, “Our fellow Tenno were of like minds, they too conceived of plots against the Orokin. Not long after you were imprisoned, they rebelled and the Golden Lords were toppled. This system hasn’t been under Orokin control for centuries.” She held her breath as Phyrix sat back, her eyes distant, hoping against hope her words could reach the estranged Tenno.

“The Orokin are gone,” whispered Phyrix to herself, her eyes finding Azalea’s, and for a moment she thought it might have worked. There was uncertainty in those eyes, a fear of the unknown, of what she might encounter beyond the walls of her prison.

Then the moment passed, and steely determination and cold anger replaced the uncertainty. “The Orokin are gone,” Phyrix repeated, her voice bitter, “And I was left here to _rot!_ The Tenno had plans to overthrow our masters, and never once was I informed. You think you had reason to hate them? You think they put you through hardships? You have no _idea_ of the cruelty they were capable of.”

She was shouting now, seething anger making void energy crackle around her like a miniature stormcloud. “I was different, I had a deeper connection to the Void than my fellows. You got a stream, I got the ocean. The Orokin realized this and took me from my friends, my family, to experiment on. To them, I was nothing more than a tool they might use to win their pathetic war.”

Azalea tried to push herself up, putting her arms up in a consoling motion as she attempted to get the situation back under control. “Oh no you don’t,” sneered Phyrix, placing her index and middle fingers on Azalea’s sternum. Azalea gasped as energy flowed into her, familiar and yet somehow alien. Phyrix hadn’t been exaggerating when she had said she possessed power unlike any Azalea could have ever dreamed possible. It filled her being, leaving her immobilized and pulling desperately at each breath. “You got your turn, now _I’m_ talking.”

She leaned over Azalea again, looking her in the eye. “Do you know what it’s like,” she whispered, “to live in constant fear of what the next day might bring? What new torture will come for you when the door to your cell opens again? I do. They took from me _everything_. My family. My dignity. My power. My very body.” She pulled off one glove, and Azalea saw that it wasn’t flesh and bone, but biocybernetic, built like the hands of the Warframes they controlled. “They butchered me like a hog, but whatever _samples _they got never seemed to satisfy them. They always wanted more.”

She stood, looming over Azalea before turning and walking to the frames assembled in the center of the room, which thus far had remained motionless. “I probably would have died there, given up hope and simply expired, if not for my frames. They had been experimented on, altered much as I had been. We drew strength from each other, and soon we had joined in mind, and then in body. We fought our way free of our prison, but instead of being punished, we were hailed as heroes. Where do you think the Orokin got the idea for Transference between Warframes and Tenno, hmm?”

“I played along, waging their little war for them. I reconnected with my family, showed them the wonders of truly linking with their frames instead of forcing their will upon them. Becoming one. No Tenno had the mental fortitude to impose their will on more than one frame, but once they had conjoined their minds, they would find the task of directing multiple frames as natural as breathing.” She paused, looking back. “You don’t seem a stranger to this marvel. Good.” She turned back to the frame in front of her, a Mesa, cupping a loving hand to her cheek. “Wake up, my friends,” she whispered.

A pulse traveled down her arm, and the Mesa jerked back as if shocked. Phyrix stepped back, looking on as the frame got to her feet. Mesa shook her head as if clearing it, then looked down on her operator, unmoving. Azalea caught tears running down Phyrix’s face before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Mesa’s waist, pressing her cheek to her chest. Her next words were so quiet that Azalea had trouble hearing them.

“I’ve missed you,” Phyrix murmured, her voice catching. Mesa wrapped one arm around her operator’s shoulders, the other pulling her head close as she reciprocated the emotional greeting. They stayed like that for a long moment, and as they embraced, the other four frames jolted to life, getting to their feet. Azalea saw the hulking profile of a Chroma, the horned helmet of a Loki, the shuddering movements of a Nekros, and the glimmering blades of an Ash. Phyrix turned to face them, a joyful smile on her face, the first expression Azalea had seen that hadn’t been tainted by the hatred that had consumed her, and she quietly greeted each of them in turn.

Her reunion complete, Phyrix turned back to Azalea, stalking towards her with her frames at her back. Gara struggled to get to her feet, only to have the Chroma seize her arms and twist them behind her back, forcing her back to her knees. Phyrix stopped before Azalea, considering her for a moment before continuing. “When I moved against the Golden Lords, I expected our brethren to at least stay out of the way, if not assist me in my quest. I never expected in my wildest dreams that they would outright hinder me, so imagine my shock when a team of Tenno subdued me and sent me here. It seemed that the taint of the Orokin ran deeper than I anticipated.”

As she spoke, the Ash moved behind Azalea and lifted her off the floor. She was painfully aware of the razor-sharp blades pressed against her back, completely capable of skewering her should Phyrix wish it. She attempted to struggle, to move her arms, to do _anything_, but whatever energy Phyrix had forced into her was still coursing through her, making it impossible to order her muscles to obey. Phyrix ran a gentle finger down Azalea’s face before pushing her chin up with it so that their eyes could meet again.

“I thought that the Orokin had taken everything from me back in that lab. That I had nothing left to give, nothing left for them to steal.” She smiled sadly. “I was wrong. The Golden Lords had one final nightmare for me. They took my frames.” She jerked her chin at where Sehri lay, still unmoving. Something was wrong with her, Gara hadn’t taken that long to recover, and she’d had to contend with the Corpus collar.

“They created these... abominations with what they had learned of my power from studying me during my time in the labs. They could project a field that was precisely tuned to me, cutting me off from the void _and_ my frames. You want to know how they managed that?” Her voice, while never calm, was beginning to rise again. She continued, clearly not expecting an answer. “They _stole_ my power. They stole it and fused it with those frames so that I might never rise against them through sheer force of will. They feared me—rightly so after what I had accomplished—and in my haste, I forgot the galvanizing effect of fear. The power it lends to the desperate.”

Phyrix crouched over Sehri, rolling her over onto her back before placing her palm flat on the Nova’s chest. “Hello there,” she purred, beginning to flex her fingers as void light danced between them. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.” Sehri gasped in Azalea’s mind, a gasp of pain and surprise as energy that had been present for millennia began to flow out of her and up Phyrix’s arm. “That’s right,” she cooed, “Give it back. Give it _all_ back.”

It didn’t take long for Phyrix to find what she was looking for, and Azalea let out a strangled cry as Sehri _screamed_ in her mind. It felt like a chunk of Sehri’s flesh had just torn from her body, and her pain echoed across their link as acutely if it had been Azalea’s own. Phyrix leaned back, closing her eyes as another smile spread across her face. “Ahh, that’s much better.”

Azalea hung limply from Ash’s arms now, tears of agony dripping down her face. Gara thrashed against the iron grip of the Chroma, hurling insults only Azalea could hear against her captor and his operator. Phyrix got to her feet and lifted Azalea’s chin again, tsking as she wiped the tears from her face. “Tsk tsk, don’t be like that. Here, now that I’ve got my power back, why don’t we replace it. She’s your frame, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind lending some of your own. I’m sure it’s just the pick-me-up she needs. Like this, let me show you.”

Azalea could do nothing but watch as Phyrix grasped her hand, dragging her down to Sehri’s level. Her hand was laid against her chest, and then the force immobilizing her drained out into Sehri. It dragged Azalea’s energy with it, but Azalea had stopped struggling. Sehri was _her_ frame now. Phyrix might have inflicted the wound in the first place, but she was right when she said that healing such an injury was Azalea’s responsibility now. It wasn’t her fault that the Orokin had put her through so much, and though Azalea was sure the extraction of it could have been gentler, Phyrix was claiming what was rightfully hers.

“Good girl, just like that,” murmured Phyrix as Azalea felt the gaping hole within Sehri begin to fill, the pain dulling as it did. Soon enough, she felt whole once more, and Azalea let out a sigh of relief. Phyrix pulled them both from the Nova’s tired mind, and Azalea sagged as the toll of what she had done hit her.

“Exhausting, isn’t it? Phyrix said, “The things we do for our frames. Now then, where were we?” She tapped her chin mockingly for a moment before snapping. “Ah yes, how the Orokin stole the only thing I had left from me and how the Tenno helped them do it.” She strode towards the center of the room and the pod she had emerged from. “You know, I wouldn’t be as upset as I am if the Tenno who’d brought me here had freed me after overthrowing our masters. Water under the bridge, you know?”

She stopped before the pod, running a hand over its smooth surface. Ash began to drag Azalea towards the center, towards the pod. “But no, they left me here. For _centuries_. Half-awake, and always aware of my frames just outside my reach. Do you know what it’s like to have your frames stripped from you like that? It’s hard enough when a Tenno’s simply controlling a frame, but once you’ve truly joined with them? It’s like having a piece of your mind torn from you, placed in a jar for you to watch but never touch.”

She chuckled. “Of course you don’t know, what am I saying? But don’t worry,” Her eyes glinted with malice, “You _will_.”

Azalea grunted as Ash lifted her into the pod, still unable to move. Chroma wrestled Gara to within the perimeter of the pillars, holding her there as Nekros and Loki maneuvered Sehri into position.

Outside the pillars, with her hands raised, just how she had appeared when Azalea had first found her and her sister.

Azalea’s eyes widened as she guessed at Phyrix’s intentions, and the other Tenno laughed as she saw her reaction. “Now you understand. Good. Now you’ll know my pain.” She crossed to where Sehri was kneeling, void sparking from her fingers once more. “If you’ll recall, I mentioned that this field was fine-tuned to me through my power. Well, now it’s your power within her. Good luck making it through to speak with her. I tried for centuries to break its hold on me, and I never succeeded.” She then placed her hands on either side of Sehri’s head and Azalea felt another pulse void energy.

It was the last thing she felt before the field flickered to life and she was cut off.

Where both Gara’s and Sehri’s minds had once been, there now gaped a yawning emptiness. Azalea gaped like a fish out of water, trying to breathe, as Gara slumped lifelessly. Phyrix’s power still held her captive, unaffected by the field now, and a look of great satisfaction crossed her face as she stepped through the field and walked to the pod. “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling serenely down at Azalea. Ash released her, and Phyrix keyed in a sequence, the cryopod starting to slowly hiss closed. “Enjoy your stay.”

Phyrix turned away, walking towards the doors the Corpus had disappeared through, her frames falling into step behind her. Azalea fought fiercely against the immobilizing power, managing a few words before the pod sealed her inside it. “W-Where are... are you going?”

Phyrix paused, looking back as if surprised Azalea had spoken. “The Orokin might be gone, but such giants cast long shadows that aren’t easily forgotten. They are a disease, a corrupting weed whose roots have grown deep. They must be torn up and burned for this system to truly be free of their tyranny. Their influence must be forgotten.” She smiled one final smile.

“Starting with the Tenno. I’m going to see if my jailers still remember me.”

And with that, she vanished, her form melding with the Mesa, and the procession of frames disappeared through the doors, leaving Azalea alone with her thoughts.

Only her thoughts. For the first time since she had first bonded with a Warframe, Azalea was truly alone.

And it was terrifying.

* * *

**I'm certain that this chapter raises a lot of questions and likely clashes with some obscure Warframe lore tidbit that my cursory research missed. I shall endeavor to answer any questions that arise later, and hopefully, any inconsistencies with canon can either be safely ignored or explained away. **


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